Spontaneous Combustion
by addicted2airwolf
Summary: story 11. A mysterious phone call Hawke gets appears to be linked to bombings throughout the country, but what are their real motives?
1. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER 1**

Dotted white lines and asphalt raced by in a blur as the black motorcycle continued to gain speed in the increasingly heavy traffic. Well over the speed limit, already, she couldn't afford to be late again.

Switching lanes, the motorcycle slid between two slower moving vehicles and around what was left of a burst tire. Police sirens rang out again in the distance letting her know she hadn't lost them yet. That one she could undoubtedly thank the low circling helicopter overhead for. Right now she didn't have the time to spare, an explosion a hundred miles back and another one looming in the near future seventy five miles away, keeping her busy enough.

Dark clouds above threatened to delay her further, but she pressed on, trying to avoid the already slippery oily spots from the previous showers in the morning.

Gaining on the car in front of her, she prepared to change lanes, casting a brief glance to her left. Although brief, her lack of attention to the vehicle ahead was too long. The car hit a slick spot and slammed on the brakes trying to regain control. With no time to react, the motorcycle rearended the vehicle, sending the rider hurtling into the air, hitting the car and rolling down and into the pathway of the oncoming traffic.

\A/

"String, did you see this? I mean, what are the odds that someone would actually catch that on film? I've seen movie cameramen do worse when they knew what was coming. Please tell me you saw that."

"No, Saint John," String replied. "I was attempting to take my hand off while fixing the Jet Ranger, unlike you who gets distracted by the TV every five minutes."

"Sorry," Saint John answered sheepishly, still watching the screen as he moved toward the back of the hangar where he had been unpacking a shipment of replacement camera mount parts.

"I'd like to have a bike like that, but then you see something like that on the news, and... with my luck I'd get in a wreck like that."

"If it's as bad as you're making it sound, there's only one positive thing about it."

"What's that?"

"No pain or lengthy hospital stays. It'd be unlike the driver would survive."

"And here I was thinking you actually saw the positive in it." Saint John pried open the large crate and started unpacking the contents before turning back to his conversation with his younger brother.

"I was thinking maybe we should head back to the cabin soon before the storm gets any closer."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. I figured it would be easier to land on the dock if you could actually see what you were doing."

"I was actually thinking you could fly us out there tonight."

"String, don't."

"It just doesn't make sense to work at an air charter service and be scared of helicopters."

"I'm not scared of helicopters," Saint John retorted.

"Alright, not the helicopters themselves, just flying."

"Cut me some slack. I've had more than my fair share of bad landings."

"If you're so scared you're going to crash though, why work with them everyday and travel to and from the cabin?"

"I'm not flying. It's more my ability I don't trust anymore."

"Sinj, how many of those crashes were you actually flying before?"

"I don't know, probably not the majority of them. Don't try to rationalize it with me. I know it doesn't make any sense, that's just the way it is."

"I just know you used to be one of the best pilots I know and I don't want you to waste that talent."

"Thanks, String, but if it's all the same, I'd like to let you handle the flying right now. Maybe I'll try it again if I can forget the last fifteen years of my life."

\A/

"Dinner was good," Le complimented, leaving his plate in the sink and disappearing upstairs.

"It was," String agreed.

Saint john didn't look quite so convinced.

"You sure you aren't just trying to butter me up for another wasting your talents speech?"

"I haven't said anything about that," Hawke retorted.

"Yet."

"Well if you're going to bring it up anyway, I was thinking it couldn't hurt anything to try. I'd be right there with you if you had any problems, and I don't think you'd need me anyway."

"You won't take no for an answer will you?"

"Not if I can help it. Dom would appreciate having another pilot around too."

"Don't even try that one. _You _ were the one who ran Caitlin off, not me."

"She came back, but I'd rather not go there anyway."

"How about a deal?" Saint John offered.

"Okay, what's the deal?"

"I'll try the flying thing again, but you have to tell me the truth about what's going on between you and Caitlin and Lexa."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

"They never did find our anymore about what started the fire upstate, did they?" Saint John asked, continuing to scrub the dirty sides of the Jet Ranger.

"I don't think so," his brother answered from the other side of the aircraft. "It sure made a mess though – ash everywhere."

"Yeah, but it was nice to do something to help, even if it was just moving people and supplies."

"We have plenty to no around here now though. Three days away from the business will do that, and we have a film shoot coming up."

"I know, it's just hard getting back into the routine of things again."

"Dom's gonna keep us up here all night if we don't start though. He wants his pride and joy shining for tomorrow and we've wasted the entire afternoon already."

"I guess you're right," Saint John agreed.

Silence.

"String?"

"I have to get the phone."

"What happened to getting this done so... String!" His brother continued walking toward the phone in the office.

Shaking his head, he went back to work, expecting to be rejoined in a few minutes.

"Santini Air," he answered into the receiver as he gathered a pencil and piece of paper from the desk.

"This is Grace from Montclair Hospital in San Bernardino. Is there a Mr. Stringfellow Hawke there?"

"You're speaking with him," he answered with a growing uneasy feeling.

"You were listed as the emergency contact for a patient we have here. I was wondering if it would be possible for you to come by and answer a few questions."

"Who is the patient?" He couldn't think of anyone he might be listed as an emergency contact for that far away, but obviously there had to be _somebody_.

"That's one of the questions we hope you could answer. The patient is currently unconscious and has been for several days, we just haven't been able to reach you until now."

"I've been out of town. Have you contacted anyone else that might be a relative or friend?"

"You were the only one we could find contact information for in her personal effects."

"Okay, I'll – I'll see if I can make it over there. I'm about an hour and a half away though."

"Thank you so much."

"You're going to finally get back to work now?" Saint John teased as String reentered the room.

" I was thinking about taking a road trip instead."

"Seriously. You were right, we have a lot of work to do."

"Yeah."

"Who was that anyway – another job?"

"Something like that."

"Care to elaborate?"

"I don't think it's really going to be anything. I'll just take a long lunch to check it out."

"How long?"

"Probably three or four hours."

"String! We close in three or four hours."

"You won't miss me too much."

"Yeah," his brother agreed sarcastically, "I just have to do both our jobs."

"Now you know how I've felt for the last fifteen years."

"Very funny. Does this mean I at least get your portion of the pay too? Unlike you, Mr. Stradivarius and priceless art collection, some of us need money."

"You can have whatever you need, and you know it. I'll finish the job tonight after I get back," he replied, grabbing the keys and heading out to the parking lot.

"Do I at least get to know where you're going?"

"To see Grace," he called back over his shoulder before disappearing.

Grace, Saint John though, great. Who the heck was Grace?

\A/

The hour and a half trip to the hospital seemed to take an eternity, each mile dragging on for ages. It was probably just some mix up anyway, but he couldn't help but wonder if there was more to it than that. It seemed like too much of a coincidence to get his name and number right by accident, but he really couldn't think of anyone he might be listed as an emergency contact for.

Dom and Saint John here both fine and back at the hangar. Unless... It could be Caitlin, he thought, unconsciously pressing harder on the gas pedal. No, that didn't make any sense. It could be some kind of trap, the idea occurred to him and he eased off the accelerator again. That was probably just being paranoid. It was a simple misunderstanding he would get cleared up as soon as he went inside.

Pulling into a parking space in the strangely empty parking garage, he put the vehicle into park and headed inside with the intention of doing just that.

Inside, he was greeted bu white walls and an odd shade of blue-gray tile, otherwise the hospital seemed about as empty as the garage. With this lack of people, he was beginning to think the nurse must've just have been bored and chosen him as part of some game, figuring he was unlikely to come anyway.

Continuing down the hall marked as leading to the intensive care unit, he found that his first ideas were incorrect, indeed it was quite the opposite.

Nurses and orderlies bustled between rooms – some with food trays, others with IV bags and bandages, and still others rolled wheelchairs down the busy corridors. Despite the calm outside, the little hospital was overrun with patients, making finding someone to guide him in the right direction much more difficult that usual. At last he was directed to the young brunette filling out some kind of paperwork at the nurses station.

"I'm Stringfellow Hawke," he introduced himself, "some one called me earlier today-"

"Grace," the brunette said knowingly.

"Yes, could you tell me where she is or someone else who-"

"I'm Grace," she finished the form and dropped the pen on the counter. "If you'll walk with me I'll explain what I know."


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER 3**

** "**The patient I called you about was involved in a serious high speed motorcycle crash. According to witnesses, the bike slipped and crashed into the vehicle in front, the rider was airborne and rolled down the front of another car. She _should _dead, may still end up that way if things don't improve soon. I've been trying to put together any information I could hoping it would help, but I'm pulling a double shift already. With the fire upstate as well as several smaller scale bombings, the hospital already has more then it can handle. We have ambulances and helicopters transporting some of the more stable ones, but we still have plenty to keep our hands full."

Grace put her recently filled out form in an already full drop box and continued toward the room. "I realize you may not know a lot, but anything you give us might be able to help."

Upon entering the room, he was about to say he didn't know the patient, when he realized he did. It was all wrong – the short black hair, the frail looking bandaged body, a hollow lifeless skeleton of a person he knew, but someone he knew nevertheless.

He steadied himself on the nearby chair, not really believing his eyes.

Grace invited him to sit down then did the same. "I know it's hard seeing her like this, but anything you could share really would be a huge help."

"I figured it would catch up with her eventually, I just didn't think I'd be the one identifying her."

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing, it's not important." He cast another look at the prone form in the hospital bed and still couldn't believe it. "What are he chances?"

"At this point, not good," Grace leveled with him. "She's been in a coma and on life support the entire three days she's been here, left wrist is fractured, broken bones from the right shoulder down to her fingers."

Hawke nodded, still absorbing the information.

"Her name is Lexa Cole, last I knew she was living in Los Angeles, all relatives are deceased. Injuries are nothing new to her and if she wakes up you'll have a real battle keeping her here despite her condition. Her left wrist is kind of perpetually broken, and she has a high tolerance for strong pain killers, especially morphine – I think that's about all I know that would be of interest to you."

"What did you mean by perpetually broken wrist?" Grace asked, still scribbling down the notes.

"She broke it a while back and has repeatedly reinjured it since then. If you'll excuse me, I have a long commute back home and an early job in the morning. I really need to be going."

"Thank you," Grace said, writing down the last bit of information and trying to hide the surprised look on her face. Although he seemed interested about her condition and willing to supply the information, the sudden hurry he was in to leave perked her interest.

"Mr. Hawke," she called, catching him just before he was able to leave.

He turned without saying a word.

"I know this may come as a big shock, are you-"

"I'm fine," he replied gruffly.

"Should I expect your return? Or would you like me to call with any updates?"

"Calling would be fine, and if no one picks up you can leave a message at Santini Air."

"Okay," she said, still perplexed by his reaction. "I'll be sure to do that. Have a safe trip back to..."

He was gone.

"Wherever you're from..." she finished, her words trailing off.

This Hawke fellow was a strange one, she surmised, wondering if she'd ever see or hear from him again.

\A/

It was late by the time everyone made it back to the cabin and Saint John and String would have been fine with a quick supper and going to bed, but Tet and Le seemed to have teamed up to do anything within their power to keep that from happening.

Tet nudged his head against Saint John's leg, reminding him that he had stopped petting his head. Across from his in a chair by the fireplace String sat half listening to Le tell them about thee new student at school while trying to avoid dosing off.

"What did you say her name was again?" Saint john asked, not feeling much more lively than his younger brother.

"Niki, and she's from Russia," Le answered patiently. "I've only met her once and her English isn't very good, but everyone says she's really smart and they're talking about moving her up a grade."

"Even though she's a foreign exchange student and her English isn't great?"

"Yeah. She understands enough to get by though, and she's not very talkative anyway. They just need a guardian's permission."

"Does it sound like they're going to let her do it?"

"I don't know," Le admitted. "They sent her home with a form almost a week ago, but she hasn't come back to school since then. I guess she could be sick or something. I just know she's missed a lot of school and nobody knows why." He paused for a moment after getting no response. "Uncle String? Saint John?"

Both where fast asleep.

Shrugging, he put his empty dishes in the sink and headed upstairs. "I guess that means I get the bed tonight."

\A/

Still stiff from his less than pleasurable sleeping accommodations, Hawke rubbed the back of his neck and willed the headache to go away, not that Michael was doing anything to help ease it.

"Let me guess – he's still not available," he muttered into the telephone receiver in an undisguised irritated tone. "No, I still don't want to leave his a message. I want to talk to him in person!" He slammed down the receiver and rested his head in his hands.

"Still no luck?" Dom queried sympathetically.

"No."

"What is it you need to talk to him about so badly? He hasn't assigned us anything and quite frankly we don't need him to. We've been up to our eyeballs in maintenance and catching up since the fires. Then you went off yesterday afternoon-"

"Yeah, Dom. I know. I'll stay late tonight."

"It's no use to me if you're like this. I just want to know what ideas are running around in that head of yours."

"I'd rather not say right now."

"Last time you told me that, you nearly ended up in jail. Now what is it?"

"Lexa's back in town, well sort of, San Bernardino."

"Not legally I presume."

"At this point, I'm not sure it much matters. She's on life support, not expected to pull through."

"What happened? And what does this mean with Nikita?"

"Motorcycle crash and I don't know. I told the nurse at Montclair she had no living relatives, at the time it was easier than trying to explain about Nikita, but I really don't have a clue where she is, whether she's even in the country or not."

"I don't know what to say, String. I know you weren't particularly fond of her, but I'm sorry nonetheless."

"I don't know either- It's like it wasn't her – she looked like her, but she's always so lively and rebellious, and she just laied there. And her hair was short and black – it has to mean something, and I can't figure out what."

"She was hiding from the police, probably figured anything she could do to change her appearance would help," Saint John suggested.

String disagreed however. "It's un-Lexa. I worked with her plenty of time where something as simple as hair dye could have make keeping our covers a lot easier, bu she wouldn't do it. Long and blonde, that just the way it is, always."

"Times and people change."

"Not Lexa, not that much. Whatever she was up to, it had to be truly enormous."

"There's nothing you can do about it now though. Maybe it's time to leave the past where it belongs – in the past."

"Maybe there is something we can do. First, I have to find out what happened to Nikita."


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER 4**

** Santini Air Hangar**

** 4:31 am**

With an early morning film shoot, staying the night at the hangar was intended to make things easier, but Hawke found it difficult to get any additional sleep, previous day's visit to the hospital still replaying in his head.

It had been Lexa, he was sure of it, but how? It didn't look like her, it hadn't seemed like her... A motorcycle accident seemed like a very possible cause for her current condition, considering her driving record, but there was some method to her madness. She was a highly skilled precision driver. That wasn't to say she wasn't reckless, but a motorcycle accident was just too convenient...

In the other room he heard the phone ring. He rolled his eyes and tried to ignore it. Honestly, who actually believed a charter they would be open in the middle of the night? The ringing continued however, and eventually he got up to answer it, simply yo cease the annoyance.

"Hawke," the scratchy and hoarse voice on the other end greeted.

"Who is this?" he answered warily.

"L-Lexa. We need to talk."

He heard a bought of hard coughing in the background then the line went dead.

\A/

**Later that Morning**

"String, the director wants you back out there," Saint John announced, replaying the message.

"Fine, you wait on hold," the younger Hawke replied, shoving the telephone receiver to his brother's ear. "See if Michael's around and find out what he knows about Lexa and Nikita."

Saint John took the receiver. "Speaking of Lexa, you and I still need to have a talk."

"Later," was the one word response he got.

String walked out of the office and back outside to set up the next stunt, wishing Caitlin were around to help. While Saint John was trying to be helpful, the fact was there was still a lot her needed to relearn before he would actually be much help. It was his own fault Caitlin had left though. Maybe she would come back, maybe not. Either way, today he was on his own, then he would see what he could find out about Nikita and Lexa once he was done.

"You know what I want, right?" the director queried.

Hawke nodded. "Dominic told me."

"Good. Go make so magic in the sky then."

Back inside, Saint John was just getting off the phone after being told Michael wasn't in. He stepped outside just in time to see his brother's chopper go up, arcing gracefully over the set before executing a hammerhead stall and coming back nearly to the ground. The helicopter traveled between the set buildings for what was supposed to be a chase scene in the movie. Moments later, Dom's helo followed with nearly exactly the same maneuvers.

Watching below, Saint John felt a pang of regret. Once he had been able to do that, it had been years since he had flown a helicopter though, much less any of the fancy flying they were doing. Logically, he could relearn in time, or maybe it was something one never truly forgot, but he was afraid nonetheless. What if he didn't remember? Not to mention the embarrassment it would cause him. He could remember teaching String some of the tricks he had learned in Vietnam, but now he wasn't so sure he could handle straight and flat. How far he had slid...

Curiosity over String's odd relationships with Lexa and Caitlin had gotten the better of him though. As a trade for information, he had promised to at least give it a try again. For better or worse, he would find out soon enough, he thought as the the first helicopter came back down to land.

As soon as he had the director's approval, String was back, asking about what Michael had on Lexa and Nikita.

"What do you mean nothing?" he question incredulously when Saint John told him he had no news.

"His assistant said he wasn't in. I don't think she knew anything either. It sounded like she had no idea Lexa was even back in the US."

"Did you tell her?"

"No, I just asked if they had a location or new information on her. Judging on the reaction I got, the last news report you saw was the last anyone had heard of her."

"Not what I was hoping to hear. Lexa showing up the same time Michael disappears may not be as coincidental as it seems. I guess this means I have some more driving to do."

\A/

An hour and a half later when Hawke arrived in Lexa's room, the scene looked much like it had the last time he had been there. The sole difference he saw was that Lexa seemed to have a slight bit more color to her skin. Her short black hair seemed just as odd, the fact she was in a hospital, looking so frail, only adding to the peculiarity.

"Lexa," he whispered into the deathly silent room. "I got your call..."

For several moments the room remained quiet.

After long enough for him to begin wondering if she had slipped back into a comatose state, he received a hoarse reply.

"Two things – first, Nikita."

"Where is she? Is she even in the US? How did you get back in?" the questions tumbled one after another.

"In the US, different name. Staying at the safe house." She blinked sleepily several times, nearly drifting off before staring intently at her visitor. "Keep her safe, whatever happens."

"Lexa, we've-"

"Hawke, promise."

"Yeah," he agreed, "I promise." The unusual sincerity from Lexa worried him, but Nikita's well being was the only thing she consistently seemed to be genuinely concerned about.

"Second – the bombs, why I'm here." It was obvious she was fighting a loosing battle with consciousness and trying to get in all she could, yet she didn't say much. "Several bombs to go off throughout the country."

"Where?"

She shook her head slightly, grimacing at the pain it caused despite the slight movement. "Can't remember."

"Are you trying to stop them, or..."

Lexa glared at him.

"I had to ask; you are a wanted fugitive."

"Not anymore," she returned, not offering any further explanation. "Have to stop the bombs..." She seemed to be straining to come up with more, but the information remained elusive. "Sacramento, I think."

"Are you sure? The police disabled a bomb someone found in Sacramento just a couple days ago."

"How long have I been out?" she questioned woozily.

"About a week and a half."

The news hit hard. How many people had died or would be killed because she couldn't stay on her motorcycle? What if she couldn't remember the rest of the places the explosives were hidden? What if...

"Lexa," Hawke broke her out of her own thoughts. "Where are the rest?"

"Las Vegas?" the answer sounded as much a question as a statement.

"That's an entire city. I can't evacuate all of Sin City without a damn good reason, and you don't even sound sure that's the right place."

"I'm trying," she rebutted, exhausted. "Take the Lady, maybe..." she drifted back into unconsciousness.


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER 5**

"So let me get this right, Lexa's back, supposedly working for the good guys, but she can't remember where these bombs are hidden and she wants you to fly Airwolf over one of the country's busies cities to try to find one of them?"

"Yeah."

"Does Michael have anything to substantiate any of this?"

"I can't reach him."

"Michael disappears, Lexa shows up, and the country is about to blow up," Saint John shook his head. "How do you get yourself into this stuff? And what's the deal with Lexa? You say you don't like her, don't trust her, yet every time she's in trouble you bend over backwards to help her."

"If she's right, a lot of people are going to die if I don't do something."

"What about last time? You almost went to jail because of her."

"It's complicated."

"I'd say it's more than that."

"So, want to come with me?"

"Go bomb hunting and risk getting blown up or shot down by the Airforce? Sure. What else does a guy do over a long weekend?"

\A/

"Would you try radioing Archangel again? Maybe he can give us some idea what we're looking for."

"No luck," Saint John replied a minute later, "and no one at the FIRM can even confirm whether he's actually even there of halfway around the world."

"Wait a minute, I think I got something," Saint John announced, scrolling through the unfamiliar array of buttons.

Try the green button on the bottom of the panel," String suggested.

"That did it. I wish I knew how you did that. I- Oh my..." he trailed off.

Not even a hundred yards ahead, a casino burst into flames without warning, sending a swarm of nearby people running.

"I take it back. I think Lexa might've been telling the truth after all."

\A/

"Wait up a minute!" Le called to the girl leaving the school parking lot just ahead of him.

The girl walked faster.

"Hey, wait up!"

Instead of stopping, she broke into a run.

Dropping his heavy backpack to keep up with the surprisingly quick person in front of him. Finally catching up, he put a hand on her should only to have her grab his hand , whipping him around and floor sweeping him.

Unexpecting, Le landed hard on the ground.

Seeming almost surprised, the blonde haired girl several years younger than him watched Le, weighing her choices and considering running again.

"I just wanted to ask you a question," Le said, shifting uncomfortably. "That really hurt. Who taught you to do that?"

"Who are you?" she demanded, ignoring his question.

"Le van Hawke. And you're the foreign exchange student, Niki, right?"

"Yeah," she answered uncertainly.

"I heard they were thinking about moving you up a grade and I thought I'd offer my help if decided to do it. I know having a different first language can be difficult sometimes, and while I don' speak Russian, I thought maybe I could help. If you didn't want any help though, all you had to do was say no."

"I don't think I', going to move up after all."

"Why? If you're anything like me, getting done with school one year sooner would be a great thing."

"Family stuff. Life's just been a little crazy lately, and I don't want to deal with the extra work."

"I think you could do it. Everyone I've heard said you're really smart, just that you're English wasn't very good, but it seems perfectly fine to me."

"There's nothing wrong with my English," she said defensively, then wishing she hadn't said anything.

"I"m not saying there is, just that even if you understand the words, sometimes people talk really fast and it can be hard to understand."

She appeared to let her guard down a little. "Honestly my English is probably better than my Russian, although I've gotten a lot of practice with the Russian lately."

"I don't understand."

"Can you keep a secret?"

Le nodded.

"I am really half Russian, but I've lived in the United States almost my whole life."

"So you're not really an exchange student?"

She shook her head.

"But why tell everyone that then?"

"It was my sister, I mean, mom's idea," she replied, catching her mistake. "More family stuff. It's complicated."

"Sounds like it. Where is your mom anyway? Most people ride the bus or their parent picks them up, but you don't ride the bus and no one's ever seen your mom."

"Really, my mom died in a car accident, I live with my sister now."

"Where is she?"

"I don't know, haven't seen her in days, more like a couple weeks I guess."

"She just left?"

"Yeah, but she does that sometimes, for work. Just normally she comes back by now."

"Do you want help finding her? My uncle knows someone who's really good at finding people."

"Okay," she agreed, "that would be great."

"What's her name?"

"Lexa Cole."


	6. Chapter 6

_Sorry it took so long for the chapter update, been crazy busy with school. Hope you enjoy!_**  
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**CHAPTER 6**

** Santini Air**

"I'm gonna call Lexa and see if she has been able to come up with anything else, so maybe we can actually stop the next one. Would you call Michael on the other line and also have the FIRM's bomb squad put on alert so they'll be ready if we need them?"

Saint John agreed and they each headed toward a phone.

After several rings, Lexa picked up the hospital extension, sounding no better than the last time he had heard from her.

"Do you have the next location?"

"Did you stop the one in Las Vegas?" she answered with a different question.

"No, we were too late," despite the tragedy they had to stay focused or there would only be more needless loss of life.

"Oh." There was a pause on the other end. " I haven't remembered anything new, but I found a list I had in my pocket the day of the crash. The next one I have written down was the the Las Angeles/Van Nuys area."

"Not what I was hoping you'd say."

"I know," she replied solemnly. "Stay safe."

Just as he hung up, his brother entered the room followed by Le and Nikita.

"Michael's still out, and these two showed up from school."

"Le said you could help find my sister."

String looked at Le who confirmed it. "Her sister is Lexa."

While he may not have been present for every conversation, Le knew enough about Lexa to know Hawke knew exactly where she was and that things weren't good at the moment. What he hadn't expected was the answer he received.

"No."

"Uncle String," Le pleaded, "you know where she is, just tell her."

"It's not a good idea right now."

"Please," Nikita joined him. "Just tell me where and I'd find a way there."

"If you're half as resourceful or reckless as she is, I know you would, that's why it's not a good idea for me to tell you right now."

"She's not dead, is she?" the idea looked to terrify the girl, yet at the same time she seemed to accept it was a very possible fact.

"No, not dead."

"She's hurt then. I can handle it, whatever it is. I've seen her hurt before."

"Probably not like this. Listen Nikita, I'll take you to see her myself when this is all over, but right now we have a bad guy to stop and it's not safe."

"Dom is going to take Cait and you two back to my cabin for a while, right Dom?"

Dominic silently objected to being told what he would be doing, but verbally agreed. "Everything will be back to normal in no time."

\A/

Soon Airwolf was above Los Angeles again, scanning for any unusually placed explosives or unusual large quantities of explosive materials.

"Nothing yet," Saint John reported, "or at least not that I've found."

"You starting to get the hang of things back there then?"

"Nothing like you, Mr. I've memorized the exact place of all fifty billion buttons back here."

"I'd hope not. That took me a lot of studying."

"Very funny."

"You want to try your hand at flying for a while and I'll brush up on my 'button memorizing'?"

I don't really think now is a good time, or that this is a good helicopter to start in. Besides, you haven't kept up your end of the deal yet."

"What was it you wanted to know?"

"What's up with the strange relationships you have with women?"

"What do you mean?"

"The boy I knew was about as much of a skirt chaser as the rest of the guys, but now if someone so much as asks if you think a girl is cute you get all up in arms."

"That's a bit of an exaggeration."

"Fine, then what's going on between you, Cait, and Lexa? I though for sure one of them was your girlfriend, but you act like Caitlin's just a kid and Lexa's a serial killer."

"I haven't had the best of luck with women and decided it was better for everyone involved if I didn't get involved in a serious relationship. Besides, Cait is younger than me, and Lexa isn't that far from a serial killer, the difference is that she gets paid by the government to do it."

"Caitlin isn't _that _much younger and Lexa works for the FIRM not to different from you."

"I've had enough of talking about my life choices. Now, would you like to switch places?"

"Hold on second, I think I found it," Saint John brought up a closer view of the scan in front of him and gasped. "We may have a problem."

"What is it?"

"There are several readings coming from the football stadium and a game is supposed to start there in a an hour and a half. Thousands of people are going to be in there..."

"We'll have to get them out then," String answered, still trying to figure out the best way to accomplish that feat.

"I'll do it," Saint John spoke up.

"It's not exactly a one person job, Sinj, you said yourself there'll be thousands."

"Someone has to stay with Airwolf, it's not like you can just leave her in the parking lot. You can drop me off and run the radar jamming equipment in case the bombs are remotely detonated. You can also let the FIRM's bomb squad know what's going on, and I'll get as many people evacuated as I can."

"Saint John..."

"Come on, we don't have long and I can't fly Airshow. Your gonna have to trust me on this one."

\A/

Simply gaining access was proving to be difficult for Saint John as he tried to explain why he had no ticket. Trying to be as diplomatic as possible without freaking out the entire stadium full of people seemed impossible though, so he ditched the diplomacy.

"There's a bomb in there. Here me? Bomb."

"You can't say that around here," the guard warned, baring the entrance and trying to remove him from the area.

"I can't leave. A lot of people are going to die."

The guard didn't believe him though and Saint John proved to be no match for the muscular, heavy built man. "You're crazy man," he muttered, throwing him over his shoulder.

Finding kicking and screaming no help, Saint John reached for the security guard's radio clipped to his belt.

"Security breech, potential bomb threat. Several bombs are thought to be hidden on the premises," he announced before getting thrown to the ground.

"Now why did you have to do that?" the man hissed. "It's hard to make a statement when you keep stopping all my bombs. At least I got Vegas, and I got it good. You may no be so lucky here either. The bomb team won't be able to get here in time."

"That's where you're wrong," Saint John disagreed, spitting out a mouthful of dirt. "Unlike you obviously, when I throw a party, I call ahead for reservations."


	7. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER 7**

"So you captured the baddie and saved the day."

"Well, all except part of the stadium. One of the bombs did go off, but everyone was already evacuated from that area."

"Thanks for finishing the job."

"You're welcome, but this time I think most of the thanks goes to Saint John."

"Where is he anyway?"

"Outside. The doctor said only two people in at a time."

Lexa smirked. "Yeah," she said, holding up her casted arm a few inches, showing the hospital bed restraint. "He's been a little strict since my last escape attempt, and he didn't buy I fell out of bed all the way down the hallway."

"Speaking of things doctors don't like, is there still that only twelve and older rule in the ICU?"

"I don't know, why?"

"I brought a surprise visitor."

"Niki," Lexa greeted, awkwardly wrapping her younger sister in a loving embrace with her casted wrist and arm, revealing the broken end of the bed restraints. "You doing alright?"

"Yep. I made a new friend."

"Oh?"

"Le."

"Good, we can all use a good friend from time to time."

"And String said I can stay at the cabin with them until you can come home."

"Well thank him for me, and let him know I shouldn't be too long."


End file.
